Monthly Archives: January 2014


My pen stirs slowly ‘cross the page,
searching, longing, reaching,
in hopes to find the worldly sage
to calm the word’s beseeching
this moment’s hopeful pause,
a chance to turn back time,
one fleeting glimpse before the dawn
‘midst crossroads held in rhyme.

Alas the ink bleeds fatter
where stuttered, grasping strokes belie
the struggle toward a good phrase turned
to sing this last goodbye.

~ for Debbie ~

She held us cherished in her heart
as brother, sister, child and friend.
She stoked our inspiration’s fire
and to our effort, kindness lend;
a point of hope’s reflection,
a tender smile in “dear”,
a spark to poet’s self-inflection
to boldly stroke the ink, less fear.

She echoed, full, life’s lessons,
inspired by Abuela’s love.
She carried true her value’s strength
and whispered thoughts from God’s own dove.

Her life steeped rich in courage,
her words and songs on waves still send
her fruits of truth, “I Have a Voice”,
from The Girl With the Pen.

Faithfully, my friend.

J. Blue
In memory of Debbie Avila


Filed under Memory, Poetry, Universal Soul

In Loving Memory of Debbie Avila

The girl with the pen – (aka “I Have a Voice“)

It’s hard to believe that Debbie is gone. I know that for so many of us, she was not only our dear friend, but also a constant inspiration and source of continued motivation.

Her writing was always inspired and usually pointed toward helping us rise above, toward asking us to live life in its fullest.

Underneath her eloquence was a very kind humor. I once made a crack to her about a comment she made on one of poems where she likened me to Walt Whitman. I said something along the lines of “yeah, that’d be me, scraggly long haired bearded guy”, to which she replied, “ah, but you are much more handsome”… I will miss her.

Her wordpress page was entitled “Ye Shall Know Me by My Fruits”. I think we can all resoundingly echo that her fruits were many and her gifts true, through which we all came to know her well. And I personally like the subtle small warning of her page that states “Words Make a Difference. Use Wisely

Her most recent post, 8-Jan-2014, “Squeeze Tight!” echoes the truth of Debbie’s soul.

an excerpt worth keeping –
I do not believe that life was designed to DO or BE everything in this life span, not for one-self or anyone. (Thank goodness, or I’d never want to see another dawn!) Can you conjure how sweet and fulfilling an individual hug can penetrate your whole being? We all like, need, and deserve individual hugs, don’t we? Why…? Because we are only ONE; that singular moment should be fully experienced, claimed and LIVED in all its glory as our FIRST kiss! What do you think, my friend?

Take my word, you are farther ahead on your desired journey than you can see! I applaud you and urge you onward and upward!

So, my friends, gather your ageless dreams enthusiastically and happily, pick those sparkling stars that have been calling your name, take a handful of moon dust, and add a few cheery cherubs to keep you dreaming and aiming UPWARD.

In September of last year she posted “I’m Not Dead, Only Waiting to Sing”…

Oh my dear friend, how I know you are singing now!  God bless you!


Filed under Memory, Poetry, Universal Soul

Atlantic Dawn

Dawn is drawn upon the rocks
where breakers still recede,
yet cling in dewy ocean mists
that soon to day concede.

Dappled greys of morning haze
deny the dawning light,
yet twist in trickster mistress’ hands,
seduced to blue on white.

Rolling cape exposed at nape
of neck in blushing sun,
bathes in morning’s warming glory
in cheeks of rose where love’s blood runs.

Kindly sigh the seagulls’ cries
that welcome home the crisp new day,
rise to exult heaven found,
kissed in dawning’s warming play.

Set in peace this sweet release
adrift in sacred sound,
where sun and shore embrace me,
as in their love I fully drown.


Filed under Nature, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

New Horizon

Tired, stretches long the hand that held the reins in pride.
Softly reaches memory that age and time deride.
Deeply sets the furrowed brow where kept, his heartaches hide.
Gently shines the eyes of love, left sparkled by the ride.

‘Twas only but a moment’s flash
that forked the road in two,
yet more than one divided thought
set free the future to the blue.

Who’s footing lacked precision?
Who cut the turn in blame?
Who’s fault by indecision
tossed it all to ground, and lame?

Still, through the clearing dust appeared
two broken smiles across the path,
denying hope to ride upon
the questions in the lath…

questions left in settled dust,
fractured shadows in the sky,
and how the fork appeared just
heartbeat counts beyond the “why”.

The hand, so tried, is steady.
The reins are known and worn.
His vision keen and ready
to dawn the new horizon born.


Filed under Perspective, Poetry, True Love, Universal Soul

The Aging Park Bench

How kindly does the oak embrace
her tender features sitting still,
held by iron wrought in place
as if so formed by true love’s will.

Her oak, her iron, manifest
a perch of sweet repose.
Beneath the elm she gently rests
to welcome hearts, to welcome those
so drawn in need of peace,
so called by shaded park side walk,
so pulled to cheat a moment’s tease
or sit in quiet day and talk.

She holds her stance through season’s sway
by summer’s shade or winter’s snow,
‘neath blooming skies or storming gray,
all pleasures of this park she knows.

How honest does this gentle bench
share the hearts who quietly come
to speak of love or hold a hand,
or simply draw the world in sum.

Each day I pass her quietly,
stroke her weathered wood in care,
nod to her politely
and recall the hands I once held there,
the eyes I fell in deeply,
the cooing of the ring neck doves,
the moments spent completely
in the whispered words of love.

She smiles upon me knowing
all the memories I so dearly hold,
that I with mine in showing
give our thanks to growing old…



Filed under Perspective, Poetry, True Love, Universal Soul

Frozen Lea

Balanced o’er the snow white glade
a crescent moon defines the shade
where shadow’s silhouetted stretch
is cast from naked woods that fetch
the sharpest contrast on the white
in shades of blue by winter’s night,
so holds a truth in frost full air
as I in nipped nosed wonder stare
from edge of frozen rill and lea.

How oddly large this moons descends
as slightest arc of gold, transcends
the bitter bite of frost and cold,
denies the naked edge that holds
every living thing in pause
with steely frozen grip, so cause
to take a body back to home,
back to hearth and fire alone,
or back to nest in loving’s keep
where calm to peace and drift to sleep,
but in this slivered warmth I find
no want to leave this scene behind
so on the bank I stay to see.

Such stillness holds the wood in quiet,
that lowly heard, in subtle riot,
the speaking stream below my feet
decries its dreams in babbling sweet,
yet muffled ‘neath the winter’s ice,
still finds the heart to whisper twice
when ask again to please explain,
she hushes out the quiet same
and leaves me dreaming of the spring
where free to jump the banks and sing
beneath the warming sun,
yet frozen here her dreams do run
and here I’ve captured mine.

This lea, this meadow, this honest seam
stretched out across this night’s sweet dream
of frozen rill and diamond dust
of snowflake’s secret love, and trust
to give to crescent moon its spark
in pledge to color bright this dark
and frozen edge of winter’s night,
where from my perch I hold in sight
the elms in shadowed contrast still
that slow the moments by their will,
so stretch the night in lover’s swoon
retreating with the golden moon
behind horizon’s line.

This moment captured, this heart instilled
and with this winter night so filled
with every moment granted true
by silver moon and snow so blue.


Filed under Nature, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

Winter Cabin

Quiet here the moments furl
about my simple chair, reposed,
here where evening’s fire curls
blend hearth in liquid care, enclosed
by subtle hints of winter’s scent,
cookies baked, a few to take,
sweat wisp of smoke from fire stoked,
on mountaintop so juxtaposed.

Winter’s love in deepest mirth
beneath a snow white blanket swoons,
delivers sweet the season’s birth
bathed in blues of silver moon,
as snowflakes drift in subtle gift
and sparkle rare in moonlight’s care,
lend this peace a warm release
while midnight calls too soon.

Silent now the dying ember
stretches long this winter’s day,
lonely cabin, here deep in timber
where all my better angels play,
now dims the night in candle light,
cures the scent in tallow spent,
so draws a sigh from dog and I,
toward sleep we soon will stray.

In hesitation’s calm collection
I gather long my senses here,
of silhouetted woods reflection
‘cross the sparkled snow drifts near,
of ember’s glow and shadows low,
in flickered fight of candlelight,
of warmth that brings the kindest wings
to sleep and dreams so dear.


Filed under Mountains, Nature, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul